


Choose Your Own Renventure: Special Art Track

by chitesnoo, persephonekyoko



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Original Art, Special Track from the Choose Your Own Adventure, chitesnoo art
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 9,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29538519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chitesnoo/pseuds/chitesnoo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephonekyoko/pseuds/persephonekyoko
Summary: A special pull-out of chapters from the Choose Your Own Renventure fic, because the gorgeous art chitesnoo made deserves to be easily found.Ren, a mercenary-for-hire, is contracted by the bard Hikaru and his friend Kijima to escort them to Hikaru's betrothed, Kyoko Mogami--a woman whom Ren knows from his own past. Their journey leads them through a bewitched forest where vampires, witches, and thieves lie in wait. Many paths lead them to the ends of this story. Which they take—and whom they love—is up to you.
Relationships: Mogami Kyoko/Tsuruga Ren
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chitesnoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chitesnoo/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Choose Your Own Renventure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013403) by [Aikori_Ichijouji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aikori_Ichijouji/pseuds/Aikori_Ichijouji), [AkisMusicBox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkisMusicBox/pseuds/AkisMusicBox), [chitesnoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chitesnoo/pseuds/chitesnoo), [claraowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/claraowl/pseuds/claraowl), [ncisduckie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncisduckie/pseuds/ncisduckie). 



The woods were still, all sounds of life gagged by the heavy falling snow. Three hunched black forms interrupted the white, crouching low beside a fire hissing lazily at them as it struggled to burn wet wood. 

“My fingers will be useless tonight,” said Hikaru. He was the smallest of the three lumps, less than half the size of his companions, a lump wrapped protectively around a gilded case resting on his knees. “This fire isn’t worth staying for. We should keep moving, trying and find an inn.”

One of his companions began to hum, a bawdy smile slipping out from under his deep hood. “An inn does offer many enjoyable ways to warm up. What say you, Ren?”

The third blew snow off a pinecone and tossed it in the fire before replying. “No whore will have you tonight, Kijima. We camp here. Better a weak fire than losing a foot to frostbite from this blizzard.” 

Kijima sighed wistfully, curled fingers held mere inches away from the flames. “Is that an invitation into your sleeping bag, dear one? Or should I chase the lusty bard?” 

Hikaru squeaked, shifting closer to Ren. “My lute is the only lover allowed in my bed!” 

“At least until we find your lady,” Kijima countered. “Fair Kyoko of the Golden Eyes.” He sang, throwing his hands wide for a moment before the cold forced them back to the fire. 

Hikaru blushed mightily but joined in, his fingers tapping wantingly on the case of his lute. “Maiden fair and lovely, with eyes of molten gold-- if only you would have me, my soul would ne’er grow cold.”

Ren stood. Snow avalanched off his cloak. He pulled it tighter, covering the leather body armor he wore incessantly. Only a forged iron necklace broke the hard black lines. An open circle with a pendant inside and a fire-emblem charm, it rested in the center of his chest. Hikaru had asked many times about the sorcery wrapped into it, but Ren refused to offer more than a distant smile. It glowed now, a green so deep it seemed almost black. 

“We should hunt before it gets dark. There is nothing but hardtack and salt beef left in our stores.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Why waste arrows when we can purchase meat with the coin you earned at that archery contest in Clairmont?” Kijima said. He kicked snow over the struggling remains of their fire as he stood. He crossed his arms, meeting Ren’s glare over Hikaru’s still-hunched form. 

“The fire,” Hikaru moaned. He looked up at Ren through sandy-colored bangs. Tears were already gathering at the corners of his eyes. “I worked so hard on finding that kindling.” 

Ren’s scowl deepened. “We have no idea how far the next inn is.” He ripped at a branch hanging from a pine tree near his forehead. Snow cascaded down. “It’s madness.” 

“Ah.” Kijima sighed. “But a rare form of madness rewarded with hot meat of many kinds.” 

Ren’s lips drew as straight as his sword blade. He pointed one finger at Kijima’s chest. “I will not carry you when you falter.” 

“And I would rather die than have your weedy arms wrapped around me.” 

Hikaru sprang up between them, just tall enough to interrupt the conversation without blocking their angry glares at one another. “If we go, let us be off. The fire…” He gestured behind him numbly, not bothering to finish his sentence. Kijima’s cape swirled up a fresh dusting of snow on Hikaru’s boots as he turned. 

Ren placed one hand on Hikaru’s shoulder, pulling his eyes from Kijima only when the other man disappeared through a thicket lining the edges of the road. “You must be prepared,” he said, his voice soft. “We cannot stop once we have moved on from here.” 

Hikaru pushed Ren’s hand off his shoulder, his face souring. “As if I am not also a man.” He sucked air between his teeth then slung his lute case over his shoulder and ran off, skipping to cover the distance between Kijima’s footprints. Ren followed more slowly, covering their fire with another dusting of snow from the pine. He scanned the forest warily, eyes lingering on the shadows deepening beneath the farthest ring of trees. He retied the leather cord holding back his jet black hair and turned, crushing his companion’s footsteps beneath his own. 

Night began to fall before they had walked long enough to have aches in their calves, and with it fell the temperatures. Hikaru began to sing. His voice sounded hollow, forced between hands cupped to his lips for warmth. He sang the same lines over and over, a military song Ren had learned in his service as General Takarada’s Lieutenant. Their steps fell into its steady cadence. 

Kijima’s cape was wrapped tightly around him, clutched inside his fists so that the fabric barely moved as he walked. He stared at the ground, watching only the path eaten away beneath their feet and yet still tripped over more sticks and divots than he cleared. Ren beat his hands against his chest in time with Hikaru’s words, his head up and his eyes watching the darkness beside the road. 

The wind picked up, ripping through the trees and blasting their march with winter’s breath. Hikaru’s song faltered. He slowed, then stopped, sinking to his knees. Snow and ice whirled around him. 

Ren tugged at his collar. “Up,” he said. 

Hikaru’s lute slid from his hands into the snow. He stared at it. His hands lay open on his legs. Even in the rising moonlight Ren could see the purple beginning to paint the edges of his fingers. He cursed, kneeling by his friend. 

“I am ready to stop,” Hikaru whispered, smiling down at his hands. 

The wind whipped the pines beside the road into a frenzy. Ren tore his eyes from Hikaru, looking for the source of a steadier rustling heard beneath the storm. Kijima was still singing, moving forward, his head down.


	3. Chapter 3

“Takarada’s ass you’re done,” Ren cursed, dragging Hikaru back to standing. He ripped the edge of his cloak and wrapped the makeshift bandage around Hikaru’s fingers, then slung the bard’s lute over his own shoulder. 

“My precious--” Hikaru said, stumbling forward, his hands gripping at the empty air between him and the lute on Ren’s back.

“Hands under your arms. Come and get the lute if she means so much to you,” Ren said. He started to walk, his eyes on Kijima’s back but his hearing trained backward, waiting for the telltale crunch of snow as the bard started to move. A soft smile transformed his face for a moment when he heard it. Then the armor fell into place. He had a job to do, delivering this boy wonder to his lady fair. He unflexed his hand, forcing it down by his side before he ruined the bard’s lute strap from twisting it too tightly. 

The blizzard was unending, blowing harder as night fell solid and dark around them. Ren kept his eyes trained on the road and Kijima’s form. The wind tossed snow through the night in swirling bursts. Seconds of calm haunted Ren--the snow would fall, the white wall breaking into a sudden dark stillness before whirling back into white. Like being hunted by shadows blown by the wind. 

The wind slacked; darkness snagged his peripheral vision. Ren pushed on, counting the distance by the number of times he heard Hikaru stumble behind him. The bard’s teeth clattered loudly, but not loud enough to block out the sudden rush of footsteps clashing with their rhythmic march. 

Ren whirled. A figure stood behind Hikaru, his face covered by a white wolf mask. The wolf was grinning, his tongue lolling. A sliver of metal pressed against Hikaru’s throat, the moonlight forcing its way through the storm just enough to glimmer off its bare steel. Ren unsheathed his sword, holding it aloft. He pointed it at the wolf’s eye. 

The wolf cocked their head, standing just enough taller than Hikaru for the mask’s nose to brush against the bard’s hair. “Play nice,” he shouted, “or the bard paints this snowstorm red.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ren fought against the rising anger inside him at the sight of Hikaru held at knifepoint. He raised his sword, gauntleted fingers gripping the hilt tightly for a moment longer before letting it drop silently into the snow. 

“Good man,” the bandit said. He jerked his head at the remains of the path. “Off you go.” 

Ren didn’t move. He stared at Hikaru, waiting. Hikaru bit his lip, then gave Ren an infinitesimal nod. Ren began to turn, the movement slow enough he could see the bandit relax his grip just enough for Hikaru to crack his head backward and into the bandit’s jaw. Hikaru spun, slamming his fist into the other man’s jaw. Ren grinned, turning back in time to clap his friend on the shoulder. 

“Well done, bard,” Ren said. They stood over the unconscious bandit. Blood leaked from his split lip, staining the snow with drops of light pink. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for twenty-odd years,” Hikaru said, clapping his hands together. 

Ren cocked an eyebrow in question. “A head butt?” 

“To my brother’s face.” Hikaru grinned at Ren’s shock. “Annoying asshole.” Hikaru turned to the trees, raising his hands to his mouth. “Yuusei! Skeevy bastard, put that peashooter down and come help us carry Shinichi!” 

Ren stood openmouthed as a second man, wrapped in white rags to blend in with the swirling snow, stepped out from behind an ash tree. His eyes twinkled beneath blonde fringe. He kicked at the shoulder of the wolf-faced bandit. 

“Finally earning some man points, Hikaru?” the white bandit said.

Hikaru’s blush was red as rose petals against his pale cheeks. He grabbed the man he called Shinichi’s ankle and hefted it up as his only answer. Ren searched for his sword, wiping the wet off on his cape before striding over to grab the second ankle. He looked down at Hikaru.

“Plan?” Ren said.

“Best man,” Yuusei said, sticking his hand out over Shinichi’s body to reach for Ren’s. It wasn’t clear if he was labeling Ren the best man or claiming the position for himself. Ren had no plans to attend the wedding, so he let the ambiguity hang with the offered hand. Yuusei let both drop, reaching down to grab Shinichi’s shoulders. “Couldn’t miss him finally tying the knot with the second coming of Artemis for anything.” 

Shinichi groaned, his mask slipping up to reveal a youthful face that didn’t look anything like Hikaru or Yuusei. Ren’s brow furrowed. They began to walk, Ren scanning the treeline for signs of Kijima.


	5. Chapter 5

It was much more difficult to maneuver an unconscious body around the tightly-spaced trees than to walk unhindered. Ren had enough after a few thousand yards and dropped Shinichi’s ankle. The other two stumbled at the sudden shift in weight. A challenge burst from Yuusei’s mouth. 

Ren scooped snow off a branch and dumped it on Shinichi’s face. The downed man convulsed, pulling inward enough that Yuusei and Hikaru were forced to drop his other extremities and he plopped in the snow. 

“Unfair,” Shinichi moaned, half his face buried in snow. He spat, then sat up, only swaying slightly as he rubbed at his jaw.

Ren stared at him for a moment then turned wordlessly and stalked off in the direction he hoped led to Kijima. “Brothers?” he said, tossing the question over his shoulder. 

Hikaru, Shinichi, and Yuusei followed, Shinichi with his arm wrapped around Hikaru in a blend of support and choke-hold. Hikaru looked slightly pale. “Of a sort,” he said. 

“We used to be a band before this one ditched us for a solo career,” Yuusei said, whacking Hikaru in the back of the head.

“All bards?” Ren pinched at his brow. Surrounded by bards might have sounded to some as a merry evening, endless parties, endless scores, endless accompaniments of famous deeds and derring-do. Kijima would love it. Ren felt a headache already coming on. 

Shinichi bit off a laugh with a wince. “Bards,” he said. “Hah! None but the pasty one. A band of brothers, robbing the rich and giving to ourselves.” 

“Aye!” Yuusei shouted. Snow sloughed off surrounding trees at the mighty volume. “Brothers!” 

Hikaru’s laugh was tinged with guilt. Ren finally made out Kijima’s back, a dark prick on the road ahead. He cupped his hands to his mouth and called the sharp, piercing cry of a hawk. Kijima paused, turning with his hands on his hips. He waited, leaning against a sign post with the miles to the village emblazoned on it. 

“Found some mouths to feed,” Ren said, walking straight past Kijima. 

Hikaru shrugged at Kijima, the movement pushing Yuusei and Shinichi’s arms upward and off his shoulders. They spun, bowing at Kijima as they passed. 

“Me lord,” Yuusei said.

“My liege,” Shinichi said. 

Both winked, then spun back around, lacing their arms back over Hikaru’s, a song full of innuendo bursting from Yuusei and spreading down the line of Ishibashis. Kijima barked a laugh, following in their wake.


	6. Chapter 6

Ren didn’t see the lights of the inn until they were nearly stumbling over the front stoop, so thick was the whirling snow. Kijima tugged at the door; a drift nearly to his knees barricaded it. Hikaru huddled with his friends in front of an iced-over window, Shinichi banging on the frosted glass. “Custom!” he yelled, his breath a fog snatched by the wind. “Open up, we have coin!”

“Do we?” Hikaru said, his teeth chattering.

Shinichi shrugged, peering around Hikaru to Yuusei. “Do we?” 

Yuusei shook his head, Shinichi’s wolf mask now crowning his head. They traded things back and forth so often it made them seem interchangeable, like their bodies were props for a single personality. 

Ren reached over Kijima and ripped open the door, striding inside. The blizzard swirled in around him, raising a chorus of gasps from the half-full room. He dragged a chair over to in front of the fire, sitting in it and leaning forward, nearly touching the flames. His progress across the room had been swift, but purposeful. There were only a few patrons of note. Two men at the bar, one with tousled dark hair and a bow and arrow. The other was older, with a heavy mustache and an equally heavy tankard of beer. And a woman who leaned over a man with exhausted eyes, her chest grazing his bowl-cut hair. The outline of a knife showed beneath her tight bodice. 

A female inkeep came bustling out of one of the two exit doors, marking that one as the kitchen and a source of knives. “Masters,” the inkeep sang out, “close the door, have a seat by the--” she caught sight of Ren at the fire; her voice trailed off. “--by the bar. I have meat stew and the finest ale.” 

The cook followed more slowly in her wake. He held a wicked knife in his hand. His eyes landed on Ren as the door swung shut behind him, then never left again, even as he began chopping a rabbit’s hindquarters into bite-size chunks. Ren grunted, sloughing his cape off onto the chair. Snow melted from his boots, puddling on the floor. 

Hikaru was already striking a deal with the inkeep. She pointed to a stool in the corner near the tired man and his escort. Hikaru bowed deeply, sashaying over to perch atop the high stool and unwrap his beloved. His brothers clapped heartily, elbowing the seated patrons as they walked to the fire and Ren. Ren grabbed a tankard from a barmaid and buried his face in it. Kijima looked like he wanted to bury his face in the barmaid, but he leaned against the mantle instead. 

“I’ve half a mind to see if the innkeep needs my services,” he said quietly to Ren. “I’ve been out of funds since Takarada’s party.” 

Ren jerked his chin toward Hikaru. “Silver tongues bring silver coin.” He wiped his chin. “No need to charge for something you’d be willing to give for free.”

Kijima’s laugh was hearty. “Not those services. Good lord, man. Have you seen the cook? One wrong touch on the Mistress’s bosom and I’d be missing a hand. No, sir, my scribing.” He patted the small case strapped to his belt. 

Ren raised his eyebrows. “Honest work?”

“It takes some getting used to,” Kijima said with a dramatic sigh. “The swordplay I picked up from you is decidedly more interesting. But I am rather less likely to die with my first career.” With that and a wink, he wandered over to the bar. The innkeep nodded enthusiastically, gesturing for the cook to join her. Kijima would get them all a bed after all, it seemed. 

Hikaru began to play, a rollicking country tune meant to set people’s boots tapping and turn their hearts his way. He’d roll into an adventure or war tune next, gripping their minds--then finish them off with a tale of grief, dragging tears and coins from their palms. Ren’s beer was empty, and the whirling dance Yuusei and Shinichi had begun in front of him was only getting started.

A waitress swerved past him as she served beers, leaning down close enough he could smell the cloves on her breath. “Okami says your room’s ready, Sir Knight.” She licked her lips, a tiny movement Ren was well familiar with. “My name is Kimiko.”

He nodded, averting his eyes from her cleavage. He caught Kijima’s instead, the man falling back into his former occupation, a pen scratching away at a piece of paper as he copied some document down for the innkeep. The waitress walked away with a quiet huff.


	7. Chapter 7

Ren stood, the chair scraping back on the floor behind him. The fire was useless to him, unable to break through the spell slowly draining the heat from his body. He slipped the medallion, hot with magic now, under his tunic and turned away from Shinichi and Yuusei, from Hikaru’s song and Kijima at the bar. The door to the stairwell opened to a dark, close set of stairs barely wide enough to fit his shoulders. A single lantern on a small table perched on the top landing beckoned him higher but gave no light to the cramped climb. 

Ren’s feet felt heavier with each step away from the merriment below. Hikaru’s crystal clear voice rang out, following him, lacing itself with the deeper, more raucous tones of his chosen brothers. Ren should leave him now. There were other jobs, though finding one that would pay as well without demanding bloodshed would be difficult. He worked at the bindings on his tunic as he climbed, readying himself for a fast descent into slumber before he thought too hard about what Yaoyi Fuwa had asked him to do. 

_ Stop this wedding, Tsuruga, and I will pay you a year’s wages.  _

Her son had sneered down at him, leaning lazily back against the Fuwa carriage’s cushioned side.  _ A year’s wages for that slum thing is barely enough to buy decent meal, mother. Make it two.  _

Yaoyi had just nodded, agreeing with her son.  _ Bring her home,  _ she said. 

Ren folded his cloak over his arm, his tunic hanging loosely over his breeches. He should have brought a drink up with him. Something to numb the decisions hanging, waiting for him to choose money or friendship. He knew next to nothing of the Mogami girl, except for the sketch Hikaru carried around with him and his ceaseless adulation in verse. She was an angel, a nymph, a succubus, a high and holy priestess, a rose, a butterfly, the sound of laughter--

No, that was actual laughter, not one of Hikaru’s lyrics. Ren’s hand hovered over his own doorknob, his attention focused on the door at the end of the hall, where a woman’s laughter rang out again. 


	8. Chapter 8

Ren tossed his cloak over his shoulder and walked slowly down the dimly lit hall, letting the women’s laughter guide him. He should not be doing this; he should be going to bed. Or bedding the waitress. This was something Kijima would do, and the buzz beginning to lodge at the top of Ren’s throat made him realize he might know why. The door was ajar slightly. The light inside flickered, a deeper orange than the anemic light from the hall lantern. Shadows flitted across it, breaking through like fairies on Midsummer’s Night. Ren felt the chill of a draft rising from downstairs. His palm pressed against the door. It opened slightly, revealing to him a four-poster bed draped in red satin sheets and a table littered with partially eaten fruits and bread crusts. 

A slender hand wrapped around the door and pulled it the rest of the way open. Ren stood face-to-face with a strikingly beautiful woman. She weighed him, her eyes never once leaving his. Her nose wrinkled. She tossed her hair, long and dark, dramatic in the firelight. “Chiori,” she said. “This one’s yours.”

Chiori sprang off a pile of cushions near the fire, her lips stained with wine and her hands crumpling a sheet of parchment between them. She turned, throwing the paper in the fire. It flared up brightly, and Ren realized for the first time both women were wearing a shade of pink brighter than any dye he’d seen before. Chiori smiled up at him. Something was off about her smile, a little too forced to make him truly comfortable. 

“Want to have some fun, Sir Knight?” she said, grabbing a bottle of wine off the table beside her. “We don’t bite. Much.”


	9. Chapter 9

Ren bent forward, close enough to Chiori he could feel her warmth before he snatched the liquor out of her hands and stepped past her into the room. “Suits me,” he said, taking a swig from the bottle. He sat in a wingback chair, legs spread, waiting to see what the women would do. 

Chiori glanced at the other girl, confirming who was in charge. The other was lighting some kind of incense. After the first sharp tang of smoke and acid it smelly woodsy, almost like damp earth. Ren took a drink, his eyes slipping from her to the fire. She drew near while he stared, pulling the liquor easily from his hand.

“Not so fast, Sir Knight,” she said. She stood straight as a church steeple, her raven hair its stained glass. The raucous pink they both wore was difficult to look at. Ren kept twisting away, his eyes forced to wander. There were three of everything here except beds. Three cloth bags, three hair brushes, three chairs near the vanity. One bed. 

“Where’s the other?” he said. 

Chiori laughed. “With a man.” The other hissed at her. “What, Kanae? It’s true. And she’ll come back fifty times richer, the way his pocket book looked.” 

The one called Kanae looked furious. Ren felt too relaxed to care, sinking lower in the chair. He crossed his feet and uncrossed them. It made triangles with his boots, black-edged triangles. That must have some meaning to it. The room smelt of sage and hot coals now. He breathed deeply, so deeply his inhale drew open the door and drew in a third woman, an angel.

“Kyoko,” he said with a smile as golden eyes and golden hair broke the monotony of wood and pink. She jumped with surprise. He heard his own laughter, rich and lazy like a river. It made him laugh harder, laugh and laugh until the room was shaking and he was going to hurl. “What’s… the drink,” he said, not caring but curious. 

Kanae handed him the bottle, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “It’s not the drink,” she said. Smoke swirled around her lips. She was a dragon, and he was the flame. He burned. 

“Kyoko,” he said. Again, or for the first time. This was a loop--she was coming in, and he knew her. He’d always known her. She’d lived in his mind long before he saw her on Hikaru’s parchment, the artist’s ink stripping her of life and stuffing her into black and white. “He got your nose wrong,” he said, pressing his own upward. 

She was close to him. He was surrounded with pink, a sea rising up to swallow him. He would die, suffocating in pink, and finally be able to tell Kijima whether colors had a taste. He reached for the pink, burying his face in the swathes of softness. It tasted like everything else did, like nothing. Ren began to cry. He wrapped his arms around the pink, drawing it closer to him. 

“Kanae,” he heard someone say. He tried to sink farther, to bury himself inside the rainbow. “Is that drugs?” Laughter rang out. Ren recognized it. He wanted to find something other than himself, someone to distract him. He stood, walking toward the laughter. It sang behind him, different this time, and yet the same. It was a laughter he knew from before, from before Rick, from before Cedric.

He sank to his knees. Someone stood in front of him, their laughter falling like water over the stones of a small brook hidden deep in the forest. Their fingers brushed his chest, tugged at the necklace he kept safely around his neck. “Iolite,” she said. He reached for her. She was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Ren woke to red, and no pink. Red satin surrounded him, his face buried deep in the sheets of the four poster bed. It was night still. He was alone. He threw off the covers and found himself fully clothed, only his medallion missing. 

Ren ran, taking the steps three and four at a time. He flung the door open to a room full of bodies. Sleep and drink had stolen the night from everyone here below. Kijima lay near the stage, a half-full tankard at his hip. Hikaru was wrapped around his lute, his cloak tucked up like a blanket. 

He kicked at Hikaru’s leg. The bard came awake with a shriek that roused Kijima and drew the innkeeper out of the back, holding a lantern. Her lantern’s light swayed, the shifting shadows making Ren dizzy. He clutched at the stool Hikaru had perched on to sing, glaring over his shoulder at the innkeeper. “You run a house for prostitutes and thieves,” he said. 

Hikaru gasped in protest. Ren felt Kijima grab at his cloak. He shrugged him off, stalking between the tables to the innkeeper’s side. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you insolent young man!” the innkeeper said angrily.


	11. Chapter 11

“Ren, calm down,” Kijima said, waving an ink pen in the air. It marred the paper he was working on for the innkeep. He frowned, scattering blotting sand over the mess.

“Calm. Down.” Ren pushed off the bar and turned to confront his friend. He pointed across the room as Hikaru. “I just saw his lady fair--or her doppelganger--upstairs. Her and her companions drugged and robbed me!” 

Hikaru’s mouth dropped. His eyes darted toward the staircase, his hands already moving to securely pack away his lute. “Kyoko is upstairs?” Hikaru asked, not looking to Ren for his answer. 

“Kyoko is a--” Ren began. 

The words “Thief,” and “Lady,” clashed together over his “prostitute.” The women from upstairs stood in the main hall’s doorway, pink cloaks draped over pinker dresses. It was impossible to tell which had spoken. A smile upturned the faces of both the ones in the front, Kanae and Kyoko, as they looked at each other. 

“My lady,” Hikaru said, dropping his lute. He ran to her, clasping her hand in his and falling to one knee. “My love.” 

Kyoko let him kiss her hand, her eyes flicking to Ren over his shoulder. Kijima clucked in his ear. “Did she steal more than your purse?” 

Ren’s hand wandered to his chest, the space feeling hot as the magic seeped through him. He didn’t need any more spells now and forced himself to calm. “No,” he said, glaring back at Kyoko. Hikaru stood, interrupting Ren’s line of sight. He turned away, back to the innkeeper. “Throw them out,” he said. 

The innkeeper crossed her arms over her chest. Her cook stood behind her, arms crossed the same way but with a cleaver nestled inside his fist. “No, Sir Knight. She provided you a service, did she not?” 

Ren heard Hikaru begin to protest and cut him off with a chop of his hand. “None.” The word tasted bitter. He had not wanted her to, he reminded himself. 

The innkeeper’s eyebrow raised. “A warm bed and medicine to soothe your aches is not a service?” 

Ren frowned at her. “I did not request--”

“The traveler looked weary, Okami,” Kyoko said from behind him. Her voice was more musical than Hikaru’s. Ren hated how much it made him want to turn and watch her lips move. He put his hand on his sword, holding himself in place. “We took excellent care of him and only charged the usual rate.” 

Kanae stepped forward, her full skirts brushing Hikaru’s hair out of place. “If a discount is necessary to soothe your pride at needing a woman’s help, Sir Knight,” she said, the misnomer spoken like a stab wound, “we are happy to assist your reclamation of manhood.” 

Ren could feel the pressure from clenching his jaw start to work its way into a headache.


	12. Chapter 12

Ren ignored their words. He scowled at the innkeeper called Okami and pushed past Kijima and through the door. The wind hit him, trying to push him back inside. He refused, pressing into its embrace instead. Better to have the howling wind block out his senses than stand inside and be ignored. 

A brief moment later the door opened, warm light turning the bitter wind into gold shimmers before snuffing out. One of the women--Chiori--leaned against the railing beside him. He ignored her, studying the dark forest and lines of trees he couldn’t see. 

“The wedding party leaves tomorrow. Could use a man like you,” Chiori said.

Ren laughed bitterly. “Easy to rob?”

“Mercenary.”

He turned toward her. Her face was cast half in shadow, half in light. “Planning to pay me with my own funds?”

The skewed light made her grin look twisted. “Kyoko heads to her mother’s. It is difficult territory. We need a guard.” She paused, her face darkening. “An experienced one.” 

Ren couldn’t think of many things he’d want to do less. But Kyoko’s laughter was ringing through the thin windowpanes of the inn, and Fuwa’s agreement with it. A thousand gold coins to break up the wedding. He nodded curtly, his cape swirling around him as he turned to head back inside. “Fifty coins,” he said over his shoulder. 

“Deal!” Chiori yelled. 


	13. Chapter 13

The next day was crisp and clear, a winter day asking for forgiveness for its indiscretions the night before. Ren trusted winter no more than he trusted Hikaru’s bride. Both beautiful. Both thieves. He walked beside the open carriage Kanae Kotonami had procured from Okami and Taisho, probably using the coins they’d stolen from him. Hikaru perched in the back, leaning against a pile of rucksacks filled with the traveler’s belongings. Kyoko and her companions sat at the back, delicate boots peeking out from beneath their shockingly pink skirts, kicking with each bump Kijima hit. 

Shinichi and Yuusei wandered the woods to either side, watching for danger. Ren was ready to either switch with one or stab himself. Hikaru and Chiori had not stopped discussing plans for the wedding since breakfast. A single sip of his morning pint was all he’d gotten in peace, then Kanae had dropped the line, “Wouldn’t Kyoko’s hair be lovely with daisies threaded through?”

That was all the bard needed. Poetical nonsense and plans more befitting a fairy princess or a millionaire’s daughter than the thief perched on the back of a hay cart poured forth. She’d wear a dress with wings made of crystal. Walk on a carpet of snow--no, of white rose petals. Mirrors, full-length, placed so that the sun would shimmer around her, making a silhouette when she first entered. Kyoko had the grace to blush and look abashed, but he could see it in her eyes. A shining to them. She loved every single second of the nonsense. 

Ren would never be married. He gripped the medallion hanging around his neck, warm inside his palm, the spell constantly working to bend the light that hit him into the patterns Takarada had set. All to take care of one woman that thought he was a murderer and wouldn’t let him near her. He could never afford a wife, even if there was one that could want him after what he’d done--and what he’d been doing ever since then. 

Blood for blood. Ren shrugged his cloak around him, holding it tightly closed even though the chill came from inside, from the magic leeching his life force slowly, and not the gentle winter wind. With this mission from the Fuwas he’d have enough saved--provided Kyoko didn’t steal more of it, he thought with a sidelong glare--to provide for Tina until she was old. And all he had to do was find a way to prevent a wedding between a thief and a bard from happening. 

Kijima pulled up on the reins, turning the mule toward the edge of the path. The women hopped off as the wagon dipped into the ditch slightly, just enough to clear the road. “Lunchtime,” Kijima called. Kanae and Chiori started unpacking supplies, Hikaru hovering around them, wanting details on Chiori’s thoughts on a monastery choir for dinner music. Kyoko cinched her skirts up and headed into the woods, bending every few steps to pick up a small stick for kindling. 

  
_ Iolite _ , she’d said. And Hikaru had met her at a party of Takarada’s. He watched her balancing the sticks on her hip with eyes slowly narrowing. She knew something about his past, he was certain of it. He didn’t want this job to get any messier than it already had.


	14. Chapter 14

Ren broke a branch off a dying tree when he was several paces behind her. The snap brought her head around, her shocking eyes locking with his for a brief second before shifting to the wood in his hands. “There is plenty on the ground,” she said, “no need to massacre nature in addition to man.”

Ren crossed his arms, walking beside her, his single stick held to his side like a switch. “I am no mass murderer.” 

She just smiled and began to hum. It was a simple melody, a series of ups and downs that made the notes sound like a babbling brook. He knew it, somehow. “Where are you from?” 

She bent to pick up another stick, adding it to her growing pile. “Does it matter?” 

Ren echoed her movement, grabbing a log and hefting it up onto his shoulder. He studied her. “You know me.” It was no question. 

She finally paused in her work, the kindling piece hovering over her pile for a moment before she turned to face him. “I do not, sir.” Her frown puckered at the edges of her lips. 

“You know my necklace, though.”

“No,” she said, the frown shifting to a satisfied smirk. She liked meddling with his answers. He would get nothing out of this thief she didn’t want to give, but found himself waiting for her reply anyways. The log bit into his shoulder. He refused to shift its weight. “I know the stone. It is a common one for incantations.” Her eyes glowed with interest as they shifted down to study the iolite trapped in the center of his necklace. “And I know the runes. They are Takarada’s work.” 

She looked as though she wished to touch it. Her hands were full of sticks. He thought about taking them from her, freeing her hands, to feel what her delicate fingers felt like as they brushed against his tunic. He shifted the log to his other shoulder. 

“What is the spell?” she said. “It glows--constantly. I know you’re using it.” 

Ren studied her. He could not trust her with his purse. He would be a fool to trust her with his secrets. He stayed silent long enough that she started to hum again, bending once more to pick up several pieces of kindling. She wandered away, deeper into the forest. 

“It’s a disguise spell,” Ren said. The words stopped her. She turned back to him, her eyes looking at him. They were alone, out here, no plans, no theatrics, just a mercenary and a thief. 

She smiled brilliantly, her palm tapping against the pile of kindling like she was trying to applaud. Then she was by his side, looking up at him. “What did you do?” she said, bouncing on her heels like a puppy. “Did you rob the king? Or a minor lordling? No, look at you--it was definitely the king. Which widow did you give the funds to?” Ren stepped back, confused. “No?” she said, continuing, her eyes wide with delight. “Not a criminal? A-- I know! A prince from another land.” Kyoko gasped, her hand covering her mouth, the kindling dropping at her feet. Ren gripped his log more securely, his back against a tree, his eyes fixed on hers in wonderment at her transformation. She looked like a child on Christmas morning, joy suffusing her entire being. 

“A fairy land,” she whispered between her fingers. 

Ren dropped the long, barely missing his foot. In that moment, he knew who she was. 


	15. Chapter 15

Ren recovered quickly, covering his shock of recognizing the girl from his youth with a smile. He felt the edge the smile had, one that came from fear of exposing himself--and his failure--to her curled deeply in his stomach. He fed it, darkening and twisting the look on his face. “A fairy prince?” he asked, stepping over the log so that he loomed over her, casting her face in shadow. “Is that really what you believe?” 

Kyoko stepped back once, then caught herself and planted her feet. Her eyes had shifted, losing some of the force of their joy as she watched him. 

“You were closer to the mark with your first guesses, woman,” Ren said. He reached down, his hand close enough to her face that she flinched. Ren pulled the kindling from her hands and bundled it under his arm. “Do not tell anyone,” he said quietly, his voice hard. 

Kyoko nodded curtly, like a squirrel cornered by a wolf. 

“What’s this? What’s this?” Kijima strolled over, rolling the fallen log beneath his foot. “A tete-a-tete with an engaged woman?” He clucked his tongue, but his eyes were merry as they danced over Ren and Kyoko. Kyoko had the grace to blush, an expression that looked more like her as a child than the thief she’d become. 

Ren saw her glance at Kijima and back at him. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, weighing them both. Then her expression shifted and it was Ren’s turn to wonder about her story. She looked capable of black magic. He refused to step back despite the heat of her gaze. 

“Just getting acquainted with the hired help,” she said, dipping her head at Kijima and giving Ren a glare before heading back to the camp. 

Kijima bent down, picked up the log, and dropped it on top of the kindling Ren already held. “A rupee for your thoughts?” he said, watching Kyoko walk away. 

Ren said nothing, just shifted the weight of the wood and followed after her. 

The meal was ready shortly thereafter, a simple soup with broth made from the mushrooms and roadside herbs. Ren sipped it from the bowl, listening to Kijima talk. Across the campfire Kyoko was smiling and laughing, her eyes bright with wonder as she listened to a story Kanae was telling about her family. Her hand lay on the log next to the other girl’s, her torso leaning toward Kanae, twisted so she was nearly sideways to the fire. 

She was a chimera, shifting her personality to meet the needs of the moment. Ren wondered which was genuine. If any of them were genuine anymore. He wondered what it felt like to make eye contact with her when she looked like that. 

“...nearly lost my lunch at the sight. Have you ever seen one, Ren?” Kijima said. 

Ren shook his head. 

“You can’t be serious! How many years have you served as a mercenary and you haven’t seen a tentekomai?” 

Ren blinked at his soup, cursing himself silently for not paying attention. Kyoko was looking at him now. 

“I’m not certain,” Ren said.

Kijima whooped with laughter. “Not certain how long he’s served! It must be nice to live life so carefree.”

Kanae’s voice was sharp. “That can’t be true. Surely you know how old you were when you took your first job.”

Ren shrugged, trying to find a way out of the scrutiny. “Time passes quickly. It has been long enough.” Kanae looked dissatisfied. He could almost hear her beginning to complain about not getting references before they hired him and paid money for someone without discernible experience. But Kyoko had turned away again, already ignoring him, drawing Chiori now into conversation. Hikaru sat on the ground near her feet, leaning back against her skirt. Her hair shone in the firelight, shorter than he’d ever seen a girl’s hair. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked. 

“--with me.” Kijima said. 

“What?” asked Ren.

“To piss. I must piss. I don’t want to die, or be attacked by a vampire.” Kijima stretched. 

Ren grunted and swirled a hunk of dry bread around the bottom of his bowl, cleaning it. He tossed it at the pile of cooking supplies. “There are no vampires here,” Ren said. “Piss on your own.” 

The women were all frowning at him now. Kijima leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I was just trying to save you from yourself.” Ren glared up at him. Kijima put his hand over his heart. “She is indeed beautiful--but it is beneath even a mercenary’s reputation to lust so openly after another man’s bride.” He winked then, and sauntered off into the trees, leaving Ren to wish he had his spoon still to dig a hole to bury himself with. 

  
“I would like a word,” Kanae said from the opposite side of the fire. “Since you apparently do not need to  _ piss _ .” She put emphasis on the last word, making sure he knew she’d been listening.


	16. Chapter 16

Ren stood and followed Kanae. She led him to the edge of the clearing, just beyond ear shot but still in clear sight of the others. Kyoko watched them until he made it clear he noticed. She turned away then, back to Hikaru and Chiori. 

“I do not pry into other people’s lives without purpose,” Kanae said, her tone crisp. “But I hired you on the understanding that you were experienced.”

Ren folding his arms over his chest. Physically, he was looking down on her. It seemed more like staging for a fistfight, though. “You can trust my competency,” he said.

Kanae’s eyes narrowed. She crossed her own arms, mirroring his stance. “We do not need some lackey to chase away a wolf. I need to know you are able to kill.” 

The forest was quiet after her words. Then laughter burst from around the fireplace. Ren did not look back; he studied Kanae’s impassive face. He let his hands fall. “Who?”

Kanae’s expression did not change. She showed no uncertainty. “Kyoko’s mother.” 

Ren cut off a laugh of disbelief. “Aren’t you her friend?”

“Exactly.” Kanae shifted then, pushing her dark hair behind her ears, her eyes glancing beyond Ren to the group at the fire. “Her mother is Saena, the Snow Queen.” 

Ren did laugh then. His laughter cut short that flowing around the fire. He felt the weight of their gazes on his back. “You can’t be serious.” 

Kanae merely nodded. “You are under contract,” she said. “Will you stay?” 

He heard Kyoko calling to Kanae from the fire, asking her friend to rejoin them and help pack up the supplies. 

“She will never be free until the Queen is dead,” Kanae said. She waved one hand at her friend, her eyes not leaving Ren’s. “Will you fight?” she asked. 


	17. Chapter 17

The noise of laughter at the fire, the beginnings of a song falling from Hikaru’s lips, Kijima’s baritone underscoring it. Kanae looking up at him, daring him to leave them all to find the Snow Queen on their own. He knew she would do it. Less than twenty four hours in her presence and already the steel that made up her core was painfully obvious.

“Do you have a plan?” he said, his voice gruff with poorly concealed irritation. He felt deceived, twice over. Purse stolen and used to hire him--for a mission that offered little reward and great difficulty. 

Kanae’s smile was quick, a moment’s brightness then away. “You,” she said, tapping the medallion on his chest. “And Takarada’s magic.” 

Ren’s eyes tightened with his disapproval. “This medallion doesn’t contain battle magic.”

“Who said I was talking about an offensive move?” Kanae threw the words between them then walked past him, regal as the queen they were setting out to destroy. 

Ren gripped his sword hilt, staring out at the empty forest. He could walk forward and away, losing only his sleeping tent and saving his skin. She was no longer the girl he had found by the creekside. Back then, she’d held his heart in her smile. He’d lived off that smile for years now, the hope of once more being someone somebody believed in packed deep inside. 

He was not sure he was interested in being smile bait for a thief and a whore. 

He looked back at the campsite. Kyoko sat next to Chiori, working on some small doll made of straw and spare bits of cloth. She was bent forward over her work, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. Ren closed his eyes, knowing as he watched her that he believed neither of those things about her. She was too innocent and too infuriating. Kijima waved at him, unpacking their tents. “The next waystation inn is too far,” he shouted, gesturing back at the road with the pack he held. “Learned that lesson. We stay here tonight.” 

Hikaru sprawled on the ground next to the fire, looking up at Kyoko and playing a new chord pattern on his lute. Kanae caught Ren’s gaze and rolled her eyes. A smirk threatened the edge of Ren’s lips; he killed it. His bag was under Hikaru’s. Ren grabbed both, throwing one at the bard, cutting off a particularly virulent trill with an  _ oof _ of expelled air. 

“Time to work,” Ren said. 

Hikaru made a dramatic show of getting up, but Kyoko was already off, helping Chiori set the end poles for their tent in the ground. Kanae laid a carpet roll on the ground near their tent, ready to unroll inside. Kijima had his and Hikaru’s up already, barely tall enough to sit in. He sat neither carpet nor cot inside, just a thick woolen blanket and a clay bottle of mead. Ren untied his tent, heading for a low hanging branch to use at the center pole. It would elevate it enough for his height so he could dress without obscuring his vision in the tent’s folds. The threads holding the thick, rain-resistant wool tied were almost chewed through. Ren unfurled it slowly. A rat had gotten into the wagon and chewed a large hole in the center of his tent. Droppings covered it, suggesting it had quite enjoyed itself in the process. Ren grimaced. 

Kijima barked a laugh at Ren’s misfortune. “You are welcome to join the brethren,” he said. “Our tent may be tight, but ah,” he sighed lewdly, “the tighter the better.” 

Ren’s lip curled. Kanae scowled at Kijima, ducking inside the spacious tent the girls had constructed as if she couldn’t get away from his words fast enough. 


	18. Chapter 18

Kijima to his left; Hikaru to his right. Ren stared up at a tent ceiling less than six inches away from his nose. He could see it rippling with Kijima’s snores, could feel it dip and nearly graze his skin every time Hikaru rolled over, pressing into the side of the tent. Hikaru whistled in his sleep, because of course he did. He couldn’t help but make music; even his flatulence demanded the key of G. Ren’s sigh came from deep in his gut and transformed itself into a groan before it was done. He wriggled out of the tight space in between the two men and crawled through the opening slit.

Fresh, cold air and stars welcomed him. He reached back inside and grabbed his bedroll. This was a much better idea, rumors of werewolves be damned. Ren stoked the fire just in case, adding another log to its coals. 

“Trouble sleeping?” A soft voice. Hers. Her muslin sleeping gown whispered softly as she moved closer, her traveling cloak held tight around her figure. 

Ren merely nodded. The last thing he wanted was for one of the others to awake and ruin whatever this was. He glanced at Kyoko, watching as she stood far enough away from him to make sure he knew there was nothing between them to ruin. 

“Planning to rob me again?” Ren asked, his voice just above a rough whisper. 

Kyoko stepped forward. “What did you say?” she asked. 

Ren waved her to come closer, leaning back over the log to look up at her. Her pale skin caught the moonlight, glowing as brightly in the night as her eyes did during the day. “Thief,” he said in answer to her question. 

She threw a frown down at him. It twisted the edges of her lips; she sank with it. Lower than he expected--much lower. Suddenly she was on the ground in front of him, her nightgown smudging with dirt and snow. “Kyoko--” he began, but she cut him off. 

“Please forgive me,” she said, her face averted. “I am on assignment. I am--” she paused, the declaration hanging in the air until she raised her eyes. She looked at him and then away again, back toward the ground. “--I am on assignment. I am supposed to learn to love but the people are so hard to love, and so demanding, that I end up stealing from them just to get enough to prove I’ve accomplished something.” Her speech ran quickly, she pushed herself up. “You were the only one I actually robbed. You were so--so--” her hand balled in a tiny fist “--arrogant! I wanted to show you I was as good as you!” 

“But the man,” Ren began. 

Kyoko shuffled forward on her knees, the movement enough to stall his question. “He was just a customer. I do herbal therapy. He fell asleep; he hadn’t paid. The tea was medicinal. It worked too quickly.” 

“You were on his  _ lap _ .” 

Kyoko blinked up at him. Her eyes fell to Ren’s lap, studying it. “Yes?” she said. 

Ren was thankful for the darkness that hid the blush likely lacing his own cheeks. His hands felt awkward on his knees; he sat up, drawing them toward his hips. That was worse, much worse. She had watched their movement. “His lap,” he reiterated. 

Her head cocked. She held her thumb up, straight up and down, then tilted it sideways. She stood, stepping back from him, squinting past her own finger. Ren’s mouth threatened to fall open. “What are you doing?”

“I believe the same dosage would work for you,” Kyoko said, hurrying off to the wagon. She opened a chest and pulled out several vials, dripping a few drops of one, a drizzle of another, and one careful drop of something black and vile looking into a tin mug. She swirled it, blowing over the surface as she walked back to him. Then she was sinking toward his lap, her nightgown hitching up her leg as she lifted it to cross his. 

“What are you doing!” Ren said, his voice hoarse with the effort to not shout. Her hand on his shoulder restrained him. 

“Medicine,” she said. 

“This--this is what you should not do,” Ren said. “I cannot believe you have gotten this far without being…” he trailed off, unwilling to say the word to someone as innocent as the vixen standing in front of him, blowing gently on a mug of herbs. Or poison. It could just as easily be poison, and if he were a man, any other man, in any other place, he would have drank it willingly from her hands even knowing he was about to die. 

Kyoko frowned down into the mug. Ren held his hand out. “I will drink it,” he said. “But on one condition. You must never sit on another man’s lap again.” 

Kyoko shook her head. “It is an expedient method for dosing,” she said. “The patients are always calm.” 

“It is indecent. You have other ways. Leather straps, if he is unwilling.” Ren blushed again. “To a chair. Or just don’t dose someone that doesn’t want the medicine.” He licked his lips, the cup growing cold in his hand, the magic of the disguise spell creeping from his skin into its metal. He should tell her why, should tell her the truth, but a part of him didn’t want her to have any further education on a subject that could open her to a certain minstrel’s ministrations. He shoved that part back down to his subconscious, unwilling to grapple with the implications for his own attitude toward her. “Who taught you to administer medicine this way?”

Kyoko scowled, her face twisting with displeasure. “Shotaro,” she said, spitting out the name. 

Ren’s jaw hardened. He sat the cup aside, leaning into the attitude with which she said Fuwa Sho’s name. He remembered the man, leaning back indulgently while his mother served him, demanding Ren bring  _ his property _ back.  _ I will pay you well, _ he’d said,  _ for that girl’s return.  _

“Shotaro is a liar,” Ren said, not bothering to hide his distaste. “You should only do that for someone you love. Doing it many times cheapens it when it’s meant to be a moment of peace for when your lover is sick.” She was watching him closely. He softened his words, wondering at himself that he was so quick to tell her what to do. “A rule of the heart, so to speak.”

Her nod was small, thoughtful. Ren felt guilt and satisfaction pool in a liquid embrace in his chest. Then she looked at the full cup, her lips pouting. She pointed. “You should take it. You will sleep, even in those conditions.” 

“Will you sleep as well?” Ren asked, unable to stop the tenderness leaking into the words. 

She looked away. She looked away, not watching as he drank the medicine, nor as he wiped a drop off his lip. She looked away as she passed him, but when she neared his shoulder he heard a single word. “Yes.”

The next morning Ren pulled lot to be the driver. While the others dismantled camp, he curried their mule carefully, checking for brambles or twigs from the night’s grazing that would risk sores beneath the harness’s rub. He listened to the sounds of packing, looked for tiny flecks of brown in the mule’s hide, and thought of the way Hikaru’s bride’s brow puckered when she grew thoughtful. 

Then it was time to leave, the camp rolled and tucked and folded away into the back of their cart. Kijima and Hikaru walked the forest paths as scouts; Shinichi and Yuusei lifted Kanae and Chiori into the back of the cart. Kyoko fiddled with her medicines, her gaze wandering across the forest and settling on him. In the daylight her eyes were the most striking part of her face. Ren could watch them all day. He wondered what they would talk about if she sat next to him. She would sit by Kanae, though, or walk with Hikaru. 

Kyoko bit her lip, then walked to the front of the cart. Ren hands tensed around the reins, then relaxed into the adrenaline. She was coming. He would ask her to ride beside him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is a little known and closely guarded secret that I, the Snoo, love above all else to shower my artistic scritches and pets upon any and all willing vict—er, recipients. Yes, fluffy recipients with silky smooth fur and feathers and ok, maybe even scales. I am an equal opportunity petter. Their squeals of delight and murmurs of contentment as I lavish upon them my artistic attentions are the very sustenance upon which I thrive. THEREFORE, when our very own delightful purveyor of fanfic, Persie the Prolific, invited me to draw a secret illustration chapter for her Renventure (well ok, perhaps the idea was of ambiguous origins, born, as many are, amid a frenetic discord squealing session) I was simply compelled—COMPELLED, I SAY—to comply.  
> Enjoy the luxuriously inviting cloak and SILKY REN HAIRSSS (don't look at the eyes—THE EYES!!!—or you will be bewitched along with poor Kyoko).
> 
> \--chitesnoo

“Perhaps you’d like to share my cloak as well as this bench?” Ren asked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Choose Your Own Renventure continues from here--if you can find their happy ending! 
> 
> Reader, we are at a crossroads. If Kyoko should climb up and begrudgingly allow Ren to enclose her in his cloak, go to [Chapter 72](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013403/chapters/70677408). If Kyoko, on second thought, realizes that riding in the back is just fine after all, go to [Chapter 73](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013403/chapters/70677501).


End file.
